Right Here Waiting
by KricketWilliams
Summary: After Garcia flies to be with her best friend, what happens next? The continuation of the oneshot, "The Bottom Line", spoilers from episode 7x20, "The Company". I don't own a thing... Starting T, may end up more, depending on what the characters do!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi dear readers! This is a continuation to the episode "The Company" 7x20. It is an extension from the story, "The Bottom Line". You don't have to read that one, but it's a good read, too *wink*. I am doing something different with this, posting as I go, so bear with me. This is dedicated to Michelle, _teamshemar_, who gave me the prompts to use, starting with today's prompt: Hot Wax. (I bet I didn't use it the way you thought I would? hee hee)

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**Chapter 1**

_Chicago branch of the FBI..._

For a long time, Derek just sat there, soaking up the warmth of Penelope. Slowly, ever so slowly, the tears that threatened dissipated, and he was left with an aching in his chest, like a volcano about to erupt, and now it disappeared. He had to thank the girl on his arm right now for that. It was amazing how calming it was for him to have Penelope near him, like a blanket of peace, wrapped around him snugly and tucked under his chin for good measure. He hadn't been lying to her when he'd said she was his solace so many years ago. She was then and she still was now.

She turned her face to kiss his bicep. "Okay, my love. Where to now?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly, sighing softly. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. The rest of the team is heading back, but I asked Hotch if I could stay behind, be with my family. Des is still in the hospital, so…"

He let his voice trail off. He didn't want to suggest that she stay with him. She had her own life, a boyfriend who may or may not be her fiance by now, and her own responsibilities. Anyway, he could handle it.

Penelope nodded and put her cheek against his shoulder. "Makes sense."

At that moment, they heard a knock. Reid popped his head around the corner of the doorway.

"Ah, Garcia?"

She continued leaning against Derek's arm, as if she completely belonged there. Derek knew the truth: she did.

"Yes?"

"Hotch wanted me to tell you wheel's up in thirty… if you wanted to catch a ride home with us?"

Imperceptibly, Derek stiffened. He'd known he didn't want to be alone tonight; he just hadn't known how badly until that moment. The idea of Penelope leaving…

He didn't have anything to worry about. She looked over at the genius, snuggled in just a touch closer to Derek, and then shook her head but slightly.

"Okay." Reid gave them the slightest grin—closed lips, no teeth—and then nodded. "See you guys Monday."

Once Reid left, Derek said, "Penelope… you don't have to do that."

"I want to," she replied. She had a devilish gleam in her eyes. "It's not like I had anything planned…"

He chucked and grinned back at her. "You didn't, huh?"

"No." She shrugged. "I was going to wax my legs—had the hot wax all melted—but I thought you might have needed me more that I needed to be prettified."

He kissed the top of her head again. "Thanks, baby."

"Are you staying at your mom's house?" she asked, looking up at him with curious blue eyes.

He shook his head. "No. My auntie is staying there with Cindy and her boy. It gets too crowded, and I wanted to give them some time and space… after…"

Again, that overwhelming anger and sadness washed over him. He thought about how much of his cousin's life he'd missed, about what that bastard had done to them and what he'd done himself. He'd given up hope, and that's what made him the most angry.

"Oh. Oh, no," she said, leaning back from him. She was looking at him disapprovingly.

"What?"

"You got a pinchy face, like you're thinking bad things Here I am, _volunteering _to stay in Chi-town with you, and you're thinking negatively." This time, she shook her head and even made a tsking sound. "That simply won't do."

He grinned. "You're right. I was. Forgive me?"

"I do! And I've got an idea," she said, turning to face him.

"What's that?" he asked, liking the twinkle in her eye.

Her smile was huge and excited. "How about we go back to my hotel—you can share my room, and I don't even have to call dibs this time—"

"Baby Girl…"

Ignoring him, she continued. "And we can get an uber famous Chicago style pizza and veg out." She tilted her head, giving him a hopeful look. "Sound good?"

"Sweetheart, it does, but I don't want to impose."

"Impose shimpose," she said, waving her hand in the air. "I got two double beds, like I need them both. And don't worry, this will not be like a bad romantic comedy where the clerk at the hotel tells us there's been a mix up and now there's only one bed, and we end up sleeping together and making mad passionate love… Well, not right away, at least. "

That made him chuckle again. "You're awful."

She grinned. "I'm wonderful, and you know it."

"That I do."

She stood. "Come on, sugar lips. This is your town; you lead the way."

Once they reached the hallway, he draped his arm over her shoulders. "This feels good, having my baby girl in my town. Thanks for staying."

She sighed happily, slid one arm around his waist, and then reached her hand up where his was dangling over her shoulder. "It's my pleasure."

They took a few more steps.

"But you still owe me a leg wax," she continued as they entered the elevator.

Derek pressed the floor button with a smirk. "You know… I _could_ help you with that."

That made her blink. "What do you know about leg waxing?"

"Nothing," he admitted, but then he pulled his shirt out of his waist band and pointed to his rather bare tummy. "However, I've done my abs and my chest." He flexed and made his abs undulate. "Shows off definition."

She pulled a face. "Really?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She winced. "That had to have hurt, especially on your chest."

"Not really. Better than you girls and your Brazilian waxes." He shrugged, and then he began to grin. "Tell me, sweetness… You do that _south of the border_ wax thing?"

Just as he'd expected, he watched her turn a luscious shade of pink that covered her from her cheeks all the way to her collarbones. He loved that she blushed so easily. She teased mercilessly, but when it came down to it, she wasn't as naughty as she was nice.

Still, her bravado picked up immediately and she lowered her lashes in a consummate flirt. "Ah, _mon cher_, that is for me and my _boudior_ partners to know..."

"Thought I'd ask," he said innocently, and then he couldn't resist; he winked and added, "in case you needed help with that, too."

"Morgan!" she cried, slapping his arm as the pink flush turned red with mortification.

Chuckling, he looped his arm around her shoulders again and headed out the now open elevator doors.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. Sorry I am a day late posting, but I was otherwise occupied—yesterday was my Fifteenth Wedding Anniversary with my own Morgan!... Here is prompt number two—a plunger!

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**Chapter Two**

Penelope had seriously been teasing when she'd mentioned that they'd get to the hotel and they'd end up sharing a bed. That would've been kind of funny, and she wouldn't have minded bunking with Morgan. Not for dirty, sweaty fun—although that would probably be exceptional, too—but for actual sleep. As she glanced over at him from the ride to the hotel, he'd looked both exhausted and relaxed, like he hadn't really slept in days. Her guess was that he hadn't.

Sharing a room with Derek was never a hardship. He was a consummate gentleman; he'd even taken the floor in Alaska, even after she'd said he could sleep on the bed with her...

_She started shaking her head as he fluffed his pillow and then tossed it on the floor._

"_You are not going to sleep there, are you?" she asked, looking over the top of her glasses at him. She was already in her __PJs, and__ her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. He'd seen her at her __worst, right__ after she'd been __shot; she__ didn't need to put on airs for Morgan._

_He had a look of grim determination on his face, jaw set, brow lowered just a bit. "Yes, ma'am, I am."_

_She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It's a double bed, angelfish. Double. Ergo, two."_

_Tugging off his shirt and momentarily silencing her, he dropped his pants next and then lowered himself to the floor far more gracefully than she would've plopped down there._

_She patted the bed and looked over the edge where he was laying. "Cozy..."_

"_No." He folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes._

_She huffed, rather hurt. "I don't take up that much room."_

_He opened one eye and stared up at her. "Is that what you think this is about?"_

_Frowning, she groused, "What is it about, if it isn't that?"_

_This time, he huffed. "It's about a man and a woman sharing a bed, regardless of how good their friendship is. You don't play with fire; someone will get burned."_

_Her eyes were wide, and it was a while before she blinked. "You? Me?" She __started to giggle. "D... __Come__ on! That's silly!"_

_Derek rolled to his side away from her. "Woman, just leave it alone."_

She'd wondered about his reaction for a while after that, putting dreamy thoughts that simply weren't true to it, but then life happened. Even later that same night, she'd woken hours later to do research, and had seen that horrible murder. He'd held her in bed after that—which had been understandable; she was a wreck—but she'd woken to him on the floor in his spot yet again.

Looking over at him again, she saw that his eyes were closed. Years ago, someone had told her that when someone fell asleep in your car, it meant they trusted you. She felt a lump rise in her throat; trust didn't come easy to Derek, and she knew deep down, she had his trust. She'd never betray that trust or his love that he had given her so freely over the years.

As she pulled the rental car under the overhead canopy of the chain motel she was staying at, the sweet thoughts she was thinking were overrode by a smell so foul, it made her eyes water. She placed a hand over her nose and mouth to protect herself and then coughed.

Derek woke, sniffed the air, and then shook his head. "Phew!"

Yeah, _phew _just about summed it up...

A second later, he gave her an odd look. "Baby... You feeling okay?"

"Morgan, that is not me," she snapped. "I have never let _anything_ that foul escape my person!"

He smiled and winced at the same time. "Even in college after an all-nighter with beans burritos and tequila shots?"

"No!" She glowered at him. What was it about men that made them somewhat proud of their burps and farts?

Ignoring her, he shuddered and said, "That brings back some bad memories."

The scent wafted up again, making her gag. "Derek, this is awful. I'm afraid to open the door."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some Kleenex® and handed her one. He covered his mouth and nose and then opened the door. "Come on, my delicate princess... Let's go in."

Growling, she did the same thing and followed him into the hotel. The scent got exponentially worse once they opened the hotel door—so much so, it caused them to halt in their tracks.

Morgan put a hand in front of her. "Watch your step."

The carpet inside the hotel was wet and dark, and the lobby was teaming with people. There were some men in gas masks, carrying the tricks of the trade—hoses, buckets, and mops. Two other men were pushing carpet cleaning machines. A lone man followed carrying what seemed to be the most important thing: A plunger.

_Too little, too late_, Penelope thought sadly.

Derek confirmed her suspicions. "That plunger ain't gonna cut it for this," Derek said, shaking his head.

"Hello," a nasal sounding man said from behind them.

Penelope turned and saw the hotel manager, who was pale and had tissue stuck up his sizable schnoz. The poor man looked beyond frazzled; she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"You have reservations for the evening?" he asked.

"I got reservations about us staying here," Derek quipped, which made her smile underneath her tissue.

"Yes, we did," Penelope answered.

"I am so sorry, but you will have to wait. We had a sewer malfunction," Ira Farnsworth—that's what his name tag said—answered. "We anticipate that this will be cleaned up soon, and—"

The look Derek gave the manager silenced him. "There is no way in hell this mess is going to be cleaned up before Wednesday, maybe Thursday."

"We're working on it nonstop, sir."

Penelope looked hopeful. "Maybe it'll work?"

"Baby, they don't have to just clean up the shit. They have to sanitize it to make it habitable for humans again," he explained. "That takes time and far more manpower than he's got working right now. So..." He looked at poor Mr. Farnsworth again. "Where is alternate rooming?"

The man started to sweat, big visible beads. "There isn't any."

"In your chain?" Penelope asked.

He shook his head. "In Chicago. There's numerous conventions in town. That is why I hesitated calling to tell you to get different lodging. It will be rather impossible."

Derek ran a hand over his face, gagged, and then put the napkin back over his mouth and nose. "Damn."

"Sir, we are trying our best. I have the most people on this that I could get, you must believe me, and—"

"It's okay, Mr. Farnsworth," Penelope said, watching the man relax. For some reason, she was okay with this. Everything always ended up all right when she was with Morgan.

"Penelope, it's not okay!" Derek growled, and the man immediately stiffened.

"It is," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "We'll find something somewhere."

Derek shook his head. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

"Of course," she said, looking over at the manager, "we will have our money refunded and have a free stay once this is done, correct?"

"Certainly, ma'am."

"Is there anywhere that could have a room?" Derek snapped.

"Y-Yes, sir," the man said, obviously a touch flustered still. "There's a few motels in a seedier part of town that may have openings..."

Shaking his head again like he'd had enough, Derek reached for her hand and said, "P, I need the keys. I know right where we're going."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! This is such a fun story to write... Here is the next prompts: _sour milk_ and _cabin_...

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**Chapter 3**

Speeding down the highway, Derek drove past the city limits. He was muttering under his breath and scowling fiercely. The past two days had been a mix of epic highs and lows: his sister's accident, finding out Cindy was alive, disappointing his family, finding the perpetrator that had Cindy, finding Cindy herself, finding the children held hostage, and finding Cindy's son, all topped off with a warm Garcia hug when he had needed it the most.

He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and he just wanted a warm, comfortable, preferably clean bed and a good ten hours of sleep.

He'd be lucky if he got four.

"A hotel in the seedier part of town," Derek grumbled to himself. Was that man crazy? Derek grew up in Chicago; he knew what the _seedie__r_ parts of town held. It had been damned rough, violent, and noisy back then, and unfortunately, not much had changed in the many years since he'd lived there. That was not something he would subject his Baby Girl to. Not ever. Hell, no. He wanted to rip the tie off of that stocky manager and stuff it down his throat for even suggesting such a thing. She wasn't the type that would do well there.

Couldn't that man tell she was a sweet angel, fallen from heaven? Because that was exactly what she'd been for him tonight.

"What did you say?" his personal guardian angel asked, interrupting his thoughts. He saw her warm smile, the thoughtful tilt to her head, and he couldn't help but return it.

"Nothing, babycakes," he said. "Just talking to myself."

He couldn't even remember what he was grumbling about, to tell the truth. She had that way about her, this way of making everything all right, even when it wasn't. He didn't think about being anything else but being Derek Morgan, knew he didn't need to change a thing or do anything special. When she was around, he just…breathed.

She nodded and then yawned hugely. "Okay, shug. Are we almost there? Wherever there is?"

He grinned, unable to resist a tease. "It's bugging you to not know where we're going."

She rolled her eyes. "It is true that I prefer to know the route of navigation whenever I enter a starship. However, I trust you."

"Well, thank you," he said with mock humility, still grinning at her. "We have about another half hour drive."

"Another?" She gave a low whistle. "D, we've been driving for a good half hour already."

He winced. "I know, angel, but I've been in this town, and I thought you'd prefer a place we didn't have to rent by the hour."

Her eyes widened, and then she gave him an arched look. "And how would you know about those rooms?"

"I was a cop, silly girl," he answered, grinning. "I arrested a lot of people in those motels."

She began to giggle. "Killjoy."

He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. "Just doin' my job."

"I bet they were kind of fun and interesting, those motels," she said, and then added, "in a creepy, John Waters movie kind of way."

"Nothin' fun about a crack motel, Baby Girl."

"I don't know; that could be fun. Colorful clientele…and I bet they have those coin operated jiggly beds and all funky shag carpeting."

"That," he replied, "and bedbugs and gunshot holes in the walls."

Penelope shuddered. "Ooh. Yes. Not fun."

"I thought you'd see it my way."

She started scratching her arm, which soon became her upper arm, her chest, and her neck. She was squirming in her seat as she tried to reach her back.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked, chuckling.

"You mentioned bedbugs!"

"So?"

"I can't stop itching!" she huffed.

"It's psychosomatic, baby gi-"

"I know it's psychosomatic," she snapped, "but dang it, that doesn't stop the itch!"

He shook his head. "Crazy woman. Lean forward."

Penelope did as he bid, and he reached over, starting to lightly scratch her back. He moved over her upper shoulders and then the middle of her back.

"Ooooh," she moaned happily. "That's perfect."

Derek started scratching and rubbing a bit lower to the sweet, sexy curve of her spine. She had just the right amount of sway in the small of her back that lead to a nicely rounded bottom. He'd been working so damn much, it had been awhile since he'd caressed curves like that. He let his fingers trail lower, just to the top of her hips, prior to catching himself in his daydream.

Shit. He hadn't let himself drift off like that for ages. He knew better than that—especially with this particular girl. She was his "bestie", like she always said, and that was it.

"Better?" he murmured huskily, and then cleared his throat.

"Much. Thank you." She sat back and tossed her hair back over her shoulders, a satisfied look on her face.

"We're hitting some travel cabins south of the city," he said, changing the subject before he became even more pissed at his train of thoughts. "We should be there pretty soon."

"How did you know about these?" she asked.

"When I was a kid, my mom couldn't always afford to take us on vacations, so she'd take us here. It was like having a cabin to go to," he answered. "They're old, but they're clean and quiet."

"That's a definite plus," she said.

"There's a nice stream. We might be able to see it in the moonlight tonight," he said hopefully, and then internally cursed himself again. He didn't need to be thinking about moonlight. Not with this woman.

A smile curved her lips, and she closed her eyes. "Sounds uberly wonderful."

Derek continued to drive, his thoughts completely on the sleeping woman next to him, and for once, he didn't stop himself from dreaming about more. He thought about how much he loved having her in his life. She was integral to his happiness, and he was to hers. He knew it. He really felt they belonged together—and not just in the extraordinary friendship way that put her boyfriend in counseling. He wanted her for real, all of her.

What he wanted was her heart.

Shaking his head at his masochistic thoughts—he'd been down that road with her before with nothing but heartache to show for it—he reached down for his coffee she'd brought him earlier and took a sip. A second later, he pulled a face, fighting spitting it out. Grimacing, he swallowed and then smacked his lips unpleasantly. Soy latte. He must've grabbed her cup instead. Soy lattes always tasted like sour milk to him, even with the hideous amount of sweet she tossed in her cup. He replaced her cup and reached for his, slugging down the rest of his plain Americano.

After a groggy thirty miles more, Derek pulled into the travel cabins and saw the vacancy light and how they bragged about having Color TV. It was old as sin, but it was still a good place. He could tell by the well maintained parking lot and clean, litter-free grounds.

"We're here, sweetheart," he said, touching her shoulder to wake her.

She woke slowly, smiling and then stretching her arms over her head.

As he stepped out, he felt his leg stiffen up. He'd banged it yesterday against the ground when he'd tackled the UnSub. He'd been sitting too much today; he knew it, and his right knee that he injured back in college was telling him so, too.

"You okay, angelfish?" Penelope asked, stepping to his side of the car.

He smiled at her. "I'm fine, baby. Let's go check in."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! Here's the next prompt: K-Y Intense...LOL

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**Chapter 4**

As they walked down the little boardwalk to their cabin, Penelope noticed that Derek was ever-so-slightly limping. It wouldn't have been noticeable on most other men, but Morgan usually had such effortless movement. Also, she was a very detailed study when it came to her chocolate thunder; she would notice if he shaved his goatee a little different.

"Here we are," he said, turning the key and opening the door. Stepping inside, he flicked the light on.

Penelope stared at the room in obvious astonishment. The signs out front and the décor in the check-in area had hinted that it was old fashioned, but this… This was like she'd stepped back in time to the seventies. There was a small kitchenette with an ancient looking icebox and a rusty-brown colored stove. A little metal table and chairs—complete with orange vinyl seats and an orange Formica-topped table—matched the orange flowered sofa. There were two rooms off to the left; one must've been the bedroom and the other, the bathroom. However, it was very clean, as far as she could tell, and it was well-maintained, considering the age of everything.

"Wow," she said after a moment.

Derek gave a rather apologetic look. "I know it's old, but—"

"Oh, no," she said, interrupting him. "No need to apologize. It's clean, and it's nice." She gave a sweeping glance and then put her hands on her hips and pronounced, "Kind of cool, in an old school, kitschy kind of way."

He arched a brow. "Serious?"

She grinned at him with sincerity. "I like it."

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed the top of her head. "Thanks, baby."

She snuggled in closer to him. "Anything is better than the poop factory we were at."

His chest vibrated with his chuckle. "Only you."

"No, it's sweet," she assured him.

"First time I came here, it was with my mom and my dad."

Leaning back, she gave him a surprised look. "Really?"

"Yeah. It was a surprise weekend getaway," he answered. "Things were really modern at that time; they'd just remodeled." He glanced around and smiled. "And they haven't again since then."

She patted his cheek, touched that he shared this place with her. "I'm glad we're here."

He smiled at her, obviously pleased.

"Now I want to go see the bathroom," she said, glancing in that direction.

"Why?" he asked with a frown. "You already went in the office."

"I know," she explained as she pulled away from him. "I want to see if it has modern amenities, like running water."

Derek tossed his bag on the couch. "Well, they did when I was a kid."

"Ooh!" she said in mock wonderment. "I didn't know...considering it was that far back..."

"Hey, be nice," he said with a chuckle as he began unzipping his bag.

Penelope was still grinning as she scoped out the small, clean potty with the deep, clawfoot tub. She would have to take a swim in that thing later. She wondered if she'd brought with her pear bubble bath, but decided she'd use shampoo if she had to.

While she was there, she opened the bedroom door and saw the queen-sized bed in the room. Derek was going to get that bed tonight; she would take the couch. She decided on that immediately, especially since he'd been limping.

"Hey, Hot Stuff, you—" she began, but then she heard him mutter.

"Shit."

Curious, she stepped back into the central room area and saw him stuffing his go bag again. It looked like he'd pulled everything out of it.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm forty-one, that's what's wrong," he grumbled.

"Only the most perfect forty-one-year-old alive," she cooed in her usual, complimentary fashion, and made to wrap her arms around his waist.

He stiffened, and she heard him hiss slightly.

Gingerly releasing him, she said, "Derek?"

"It's my knee." Hopping on one foot, he turned around and lowered himself to the couch. "Fuckin' thing locked on me, and I can barely move it."

Penelope grimaced. It had to be hurting him terribly; Derek avoided saying the "F" word around her most of the time because she usually gave him a lecture about it. She couldn't stop his shit, hell, and damn, but over seven years of friendship, she'd made him cut down drastically on the effenheimer.

"I saw you limping, and I had a feeling it wasn't good," she said sympathetically.

"Yeah," he growled, giving a disgusted look. "Years ago, I used to just be able to pop a couple of Advil® and there'd be no problem. Now…" He gave a pathetic little snort of laughter. "I'm getting old."

"Well, since we are close to the same age, I guess I'm your old lady," she teased back, taking a seat next to him.

Derek put his arm out and pulled her close to him. "I'd like that."

The movement made the rickety old couch jiggle, and she felt him wince again.

As she tried to stand, he grabbed her hand and tugged her down. "Stay. It's all right."

"No, it's not, D," she fussed. "What can we do about it?"

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Nothing. I was going to rub it out with some of that hot cream, but I forgot to pack it." He opened his eye. "You don't have any Ben Gay®, do you?"

"Afraid not, my lov—Oooh!" she interrupted herself.

He'd closed his eyes again, but that made him open them. "What?"

She shot him a brilliant grin. She knew exactly what to use. "Wait here, sweetie. I'll be right back."

He scowled and lowered his hands, trying to rise. "Penelope, wait. I'll come with you."

"Sit!" she ordered.

"Baby Girl—"

She didn't wait to hear the rest of what he said. Good grief, he was ridiculous. They were in the middle of farm country, where there was no one for miles; she didn't need him protecting her. The only thing that would attack her there was a cow, and since she was vegetarian, she figured cows were on her side!

Two minute later, she returned to her scowling stud muffin. He looked like he was in pain and that was never good. Derek was rather stoic, unless he was teasing about a mock injury.

"When I was in the bathroom, they had a vending machine. I put two and two together, and..." She produced a packet with a flourish. "Ta-da!"

"What in the hell is that?"

"Check it out yourself." She tossed the little packet.

"K-Y intense®?" He started chuckling and shaking his head. "What in the hell do we need joy jelly for?"

"Ah, _mon cher_, " she teased, moving down to kneel between his legs. "You need to be more creative in your thinking."

The look he shot her was so hot, she felt scorched by it. "Believe me, sweetheart…I'm comin' up with some _very _creative ideas right now."

Her cheeks flushed, and she began untying his shoes. "Behave."

As she tugged his shoes off, he said, "P... what…"

"I'm undressing you."

He gave her a stony look. "Honey, that's not a really great idea."

"Derek, have you ever used that lube?" she asked.

It was his turn to blush and fluster a little. "I've never had an occasion to use it, no."

"Well, I have. That stuff heats like your favorite cream," she said, pointing at the packet, "and I am going to rub your knee for you. Unbutton your pants."

"Baby, I can rub my own knee—okay, okay," he agreed, after she shot him the dirtiest look she could muster.

A second later, she had her hand on his waist and was easing his loose jeans over the curve of his hard butt as he lifted his legs up and down. She held her hand up to him. "Packet, please."

Derek placed the packet in her hand.

Penelope squeezed the oily liquid into her hands and rubbed them together, feeling the fluid heat up and become more viscous. Placing a hand on both sides of his outstretched knee, she began to rub softly, gently, working her fingers around the tightened muscles.

Feeling the tense muscles begin to relax, she worked her way around the back of the joint and toward the front, where his thigh met his kneecap. He had gorgeous legs, so strong, with thick, cyclist thighs. She knew he liked to ride his bike long distances on the weekends and had actually gone with him a few times when he'd done smaller rides around Quantico. His skin was so warm, too—far warmer than her own hands.

Using her thumbs, she pressed harder into the stronger muscles of his thigh and heard him grunt.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, giving him a concerned glance.

He was watching her intently, his dark eyes catching every movement she made. He smiled just slightly. "No…you're perfect."

She smiled back at him, feeling suddenly shy. Her stomach was fluttering lightly, and even lower, she felt a pulse. Internally, she chastised herself. It was just Derek—even more, it was just Derek's _leg_. She'd seen Derek's legs in shorts and swim trunks numerous times in their relationship. Why was she letting this get to her now?

She started rubbing the strong muscles on the back of his leg, the tight hamstrings that lead up to his awesome bubble butt. It was curved right; just enough manly softness to hold on to in bed yet still tight and firm. He had a caboose that made her want to give him a playful spank. Alas, one more thing in the desirable things arsenal that belonged to Derek Morgan.

Against her better judgment, she glanced up at him again. His eyes were closed and his head was against the back of the couch, revealing the long expanse of his gorgeous brown throat. In her mind, she pictured him without his shirt, without the boxer briefs that cupped his _oh, so perfect_ body and left very little to the imagination…

"Is that good?" she squeaked, moving her hands and her gaze down to his calf. Best not to think that route!

"It's great," he said in a sleepy, relaxed voice that barely sounded like him.

There was a husky quality to his voice, like rough silk, that made her body throb in response. The darkness in his eyes and his pure, natural seductiveness was wrecking havoc on her senses. It was too close, too much, for what she was feeling right now. She needed to get a grip before she climbed on his lap and—

Interrupting her dirty thoughts, he reached down and cupped the side of her face. "You got magic hands, Baby Girl."

It shocked her; she wasn't prepared for his touch. He couldn't touch her, not when she wanted...

Barely controlling her reactions, she stiffened and pulled away from him. "I'm glad."

He watched her, and she saw what looked like a hurt expression flit over his face, followed by something that was hard to decipher. For that one heartstopping moment, she'd wondered if he'd been feeling the same thing.

However, just as soon as it had come, it was gone and replaced by a devil-may-grin.

"Hey…there's a little left in here," he said, lifting the packet and wiggling it. "Enough for you and Lynch to use another night." He tossed it at her and smiled again. "Lucky you."

Her idiotically hopefully heart sank. _Of course_, that hurt expression hadn't been because he'd wanted her too. He was merely concerned and upset she'd jumped like a ninny. He probably noticed her panting, and was shoving her where he thought she belonged—away from him and with Kevin.

Well, she got one thing right... but it was a bitter victory, nonetheless.

"You keep it," she said, handing the packet back. "For you and your _boudoir bunnies_."

He looked rather offended as he handed it back to her. "I don't need it."

She rolled her eyes. "Derek—"

He gave her an arched look. "Sweetness, I don't need that to make a woman hot."

For some reason, she felt kind of insulted. She put her chin up. "I don't need it, either."

"You don't," he said in agreement, and then added, "but I'm sure Lynch does."

It had been a long day, too long, in so many ways. She didn't know why he was being pissy, and she felt a headache coming on. What on earth? She came to Chicago to be with him and offer support; she did not come all the way to Chicago to hear him insult Kevin.

At least Kevin had wanted her.

"Fine." She stood and put her hands on her hips. "You want him to have it, then you give it to him to use!"

With that, she hurled the packet in his direction and stomped out the door of the cabin.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: We've reached the conclusion of another story! Thanks so much for the reviews and the support. Next story is coming soon... Love, Kricket...

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Derek watched Penelope storm out the door of the cabin before he gave a heavy sigh and let his head fall back onto the couch. He put his fist on his aching forehead that matched the throb in his groin.

Shit. He was an asshole.

He had a lot of explaining to do, and he knew that none of it would make a hint of difference to Penelope. Yeah, he was tired. Yeah, it had been a rough day. Yeah, he had family issues going on. None of that excused his behavior.

The fact was, he was wrong, and he owned her an apology. He'd let his feelings he felt for her, the ones that had lain only partially dormant for years, take over his common sense. He'd glanced down at her, had seen her beautiful, familiar face—the face that haunted his dreams—between his legs, and he couldn't distance himself. He'd let himself think far too much today about their relationship and what might have been.

He had even tried closing his eyes, but it hadn't helped. Her soft fingers touching him… God! He still ached even now for her.

Before he could stop himself, he'd reached forward for her, touched her, wanting to lift her to him so that she could straddle his lap. He'd reached for her like he'd reach for a lover…and she'd drawn away like the friend that she was.

And he'd snapped.

Disgusted with himself, he shook his head and rose to his feet. He loved her, far more than his rather neglected libido, and she deserved better. He needed to apologize, and pronto, before he lost the best thing that ever happened to him…

Her friendship.

* * *

Penelope stood, leaning against the rental car under the light of the cheesy motel sign. She wiped away a frustrated tear and then growled at her own stupidity. He did not deserve her tears, not the way he was acting.

She sniffled. Yeah. He did. Derek really was wonderful, even when he was an ass. He deserved everything, and so much more.

Besides, if she were being honest with herself—and most of the time, she was—her frustration wasn't just because of him. She had an active roll in the way she felt. She'd let her mind drift too much today, thinking fanciful, romantic thoughts that she had no business thinking. Touching him had only magnified those feelings. When he'd reached for her, she'd panicked, afraid she'd given too much away…

And then he'd pushed her toward Kevin again, like he always did.

_"Fool!" _her heart yelled at her. _"He doesn't want you like that! He teases, but that's all it is—one big, long, uber-painful tease."_

"I know," she whispered to herself, hanging her head.

A hand reached for hers and made her jump, and she turned to see Derek. She snapped, "You scared me half to death!"

"Come with me," he asked softly, tugging her hand. He was wearing his jeans again, thank goodness, and leaning a little more heavily on his left knee.

"Why should I?" She stood stock still and put her chin up childishly. She was hurt; she didn't feel like moving.

"Please," he begged, gently rubbing her palm. "I want to show you something."

She thought about saying no, but then curiosity got the better of her.

"Fine." Frowning, Penelope followed his lead, muttering, " It's not like I have anything better to do."

The rustle of old, fallen leaves sounded under their feet as he walked her behind the building. The moon was full and huge, lighting the backyard of the cabin in a silvery glow. Some dampness accumulated on the ground and the trees, sparkling like tiny diamonds in the light. It also made her feet and her arms wet, as she trod through the grass and brushed the branches. She shivered in the cold.

He paused as he reached the edge of the yard that was lined in cattails and tugged her so that she stood in front of him. There was the small stream he'd talked about in the car. It made a happy, gurgling sound as it ran over little rocks in its bed. It was truly beautiful, in a serene sense, like a Monet painting come to life.

"Wow," she said in honest wonderment. She felt him wrap his arms around her, moving her closer to his perpetually warm body. He simply held her there, and they watched the stream together.

"When I was younger," he murmured, his voice a low purr behind her ear, "I would come here with my family. We'd fish, wade in the stream, do all the things that kids did."

"Sounds wonderful."

"It was." He paused for a second, before he continued, "But that first time—when my dad was with—was special."

He took a breath, as if he were letting the memories wash over him, and then said, "My parents put us to bed in the bedroom—all three of us little kids—and they'd taken the living room pull-out sofa. I woke in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and they weren't there."

She waiting, not saying a word, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

"I looked out the back window and saw them standing in the moonlight…just like this," he murmured softly. "Then and there, I told myself that someday, I would come back here and do the same thing with someone I loved." He turned her in his arms and said, "Baby Girl, I can't think of anyone better to stand here with than you."

The tears sprung to her eyes, and she shoved at his chest, still smiling. "Don't do that to me. I was mad at you."

He tugged her back into his arms. "I know, angel, and I am sorry. You didn't deserve that. I let my jealousy and my foolishness get in the way of our friendship, and—"

"Jealousy?" she interrupted, looking up at him and stopping him from saying any more.

"Yeah," he said, and then shook his head. "Put it this way: sometimes I'm the one who shouldn't drink that third glass of wine. I forget the good thing I already have with you and dream of more."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat and felt a tingling sensation take over her whole body. "More?"

Derek sighed and shuffled uncomfortably. He let her go and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I know you are with Lynch, and—"

"No, I'm not."

Derek's brows shot down immediately. "What did you just say?"

She smiled at him. "I'm not with Kevin. He was rather upset that I took off in the middle of the night to fly by my best friend's side."

He swallowed, as if he was digesting this news. "He wasn't…"

"Nope," she said happily. "I told him that he didn't understand our friendship, and he said that he didn't want to understand it—not anymore."

Derek chucked softly. "It is hard to understand."

That struck her deeply, and suddenly, she needed to know…right that second.

Penelope stepped closer and put her hands on his shoulders. "What is it to you, Derek? What is our friendship to you?"

He paused for a second, as if he were studying her, drinking her and the moment in. A soft smile curved his mouth, and he brought his hand up to cup her face.

"It's _everything_ to me," he said honestly, his heart shining in his dark eyes. "When I am with you, I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more. Everything is more intense, like seeing the world in color instead of black and white. You make it all better, Baby Girl…"

He folded her into his embrace and brushed his lips against her forehead. "When I am with you, I can fly, and when I hold you, it's the closest to heaven I will ever get."

"Oh, Derek," she whispered, her heart overflowing.

"I love you, Penelope. You give me solace and hope, and I never want to let you go."

Penelope couldn't hold back her smile. She felt the exact same way about him. Wherever he went, she'd be right there waiting for him.

"I love you, too," she answered, looking up at him through misty eyes. "Please keep holding on."

"Always," he whispered, before lowering his mouth to hers.

Even though she'd been prepared for the kiss—she felt she'd been waiting seven years for this—her breath hitched in her throat and her heart sped up in anticipation. As he brushed his warm, soft lips against her hers, her entire body tingled, and a rush of heat and excitement flushed over her like a breeze in the desert. She was acutely aware of him, the light pressure of his hands on her lower back, guiding rather than directing.

Then slowly, there was a little more pressure, a little more touching, and she felt a languorous warmth sluice through her body, like her blood was molten lava. Raising her arms, she looped them around his neck and the urge to stretch, to press herself against him like a cat needing stroking, became unstoppable.

At the same time, he played his lips on hers, coaxing them to open. She felt the teasing flit of his tongue, and she couldn't stop a moan that seemed to come from nowhere.

Lord, could this man kiss!

She needed more, had to get closer, and yet, she couldn't move that crucial inch. When she thought she would die from want, he lowered his hands, cupping her bottom, lifting her until she was on her tiptoes. Her body was firmly placed against his, her breasts meshed against the hard wall of his chest, her thighs intermingled with his. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart that matched her own. She felt like his perfect match; even the breaths they took were in unison.

She continued to meet him kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, until finally, they broke apart, breathless and still clinging to one another. He continued to rain soft kisses on her cheeks, temples, and the bridge of her nose, until they were both on steady feet.

"That," he murmured softly, "was everything I'd always hoped it would be."

"Mmm hmm."

He kissed her quickly again and grinned at her. "My parents were on to something…"

She answered his grin. "Smart parents."

He laughed and then folded her close to his chest again. They held each other, soaking in the warmth of the moment, before she shivered with the chill in the air.

He asked, "Are you ready to go in?"

She nodded and then he draped his arm around her shoulder as they walked back to the cabin to their happily ever after.


End file.
